


Broken Angel

by MeetMeInTheDark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Out of Character, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-15
Updated: 2008-02-15
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetMeInTheDark/pseuds/MeetMeInTheDark
Summary: Harry was a bloodthristy and ruthless killer. It was one of the things I so loved about him. He was broken beyond repair and so beautiful that my heart ached at times. A person with such beauty was bound to suffer and suffer he did. I will fully admit that Harry deserved no one's love after he killed so many innocents, but the simple fact that I didn't either made it okay in my book that we did love each other.This is a DARK fic, if you don't like, don't read.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this.

 

 

 

I am finally the ruler of the world. I spent many years working for it and I finally achieved my dreams. Of course, I could have never done it without the help of my lover. 

Harry Potter.

He was a beautiful boy and turned into an even more beautiful man. I loved him dearly. He was so _broken_ , just like me. I am somewhat in part of his state, but I am not the only one who hurt him. The wizarding world put so much on his shoulders at such a young age that he finally snapped. The world did not care for him so he decided he wouldn't care about the world either. 

I still vividly remember the night he stormed into my castle, looking determined and angry. I had truly thought that this was when we would finally fight to the death. So I was greatly suprised at what he said.

"I want to join your ranks."

"Beg pardon?" I asked, unable to believe this was happening.

"I want to join your ranks. I am fucking tired of the wizarding world. It can go to hell," he snarled. 

There was a certain glint in his eyes that reminded me of Bellatrix. He was insane, but not fully, and hell bent on getting revenge on the people who caused it. I was more than happy to help him with that. 

"Well, how can I possibly turn down such an offer? Come forward, hold out your left arm," I commanded. His wild eyes flared even brighter at me.

"You will not brand me like cattle. I will fight by your side, not underneath your boot. If you want my help taking over the world, I want to be your second, at the very least."

"You insolent whelp! You think you can storm in here, demand to join my ranks, and the attempt to overthrow my second in command just because it pleases you?!" I exclaimed, furious at his arrogance.

"Yes, I do. That is my offer, take it or I'm destroying you now and conquering the world on my own," he replied. The steely determination in his voice left no doubt in my mind that he would do it.

I spent several moments debating. He was, indeed, very powerful. I would be foolish to turn down his strength. But was it worth it to have him control my troops as I did? I was not sure what he would do to them. I hoped he wouldn't kill them. Another look in his eyes assured me that me and my men were not his intended targets. He wanted the world that heaped unreasonable expectations on him and left him to deal with them mostly by himself.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I accept your offer. Welcome to the Dark side," I eventually said, bowing mockingly. He recognized the gesture for what it was and did not comment. He knew that he would not get a warmer welcome out of me.

"Thank you. Call your men so that I may proceed in shocking the hell out of them," he instructed. I arched an eyebrow at the command but followed it nonetheless. My minions' reactions would be priceless.

When my followers arrived several minutes later, I briefed them on the latest development. Six fainted, fourteen cheered, twenty-seven gaped like fish, Crabbe and Goyle blinked in confusion, Bellatrix hissed in anger, and Lucius and Severus arched eyebrows.

All in all, I was very amused. Having Harry Potter on my side already had perks.

~*~

Several months went by and Harry managed to maintain his Golden Boy image. In reality, he was going on every raid, slaughtering at an impressive rate. He wore a deep red cloak and a mask, waving his wand or hand, shouting out a plethora of terrible curses. I think that's when I started falling in love with him.

Eventually, however, the truth came out. Many were shocked, unsuprisingly. Those idiots wouldn't know an evil young man unless he walked up and shot a slicing curse at them. Which he did. 

Harry had become absolutely bloodthirsty and was no longer willing to conceal it. On his 18th birthday, he celebrated by maiming a few wizards in Hogsmeade. I laughed for several moments when I learned of that and found an Incubus for him to have some fun with.

The wizarding world was in an uproar. Blame was passed around like good wine and a heavy dose of fear accompanied everyone's breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They must have all thought, with Harry on my side, how could I be killed? I remember something in the Prophet talking about how the prophecy that bug-eyed loon at Hogwarts concocted was supposed to have been the future. Harry and Dumbledore were supposed to find the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' and ride off in the sunset on two white unicorns. Instead, Harry was painting the sky red with blood, and storming away on his victim's broken bodies. 

Oh, I had such fun during that time. Everyone was scared, Harry was killing faster, and I was watching those smug bastards die without having to put down my cuppa and scone. Having Harry on my side was an utter delight.

I'm sure that many of my Death Eaters were startled beyond speech, Severus especially. He had taught the boy and never noticed anything out of the ordinary. 

"That's because I never let you see what ordinary was for me," Harry told him. 

Harry's desire for vengeance increased each week, his method of torture getting more creative. That's when I knew I had to make him mine. There was no flowery confessions or sweet love-making. 

I told him, "I want you."

He stared at me for a few moments before saying, "It took you long enough. I was waiting for you to attempt rape weeks ago."

I laughed and jerked him towards me, one hand on his neck, the other on his hip. I claimed his mouth passionately, forcing my tongue past those tempting lips. His fingers tangled in my hair(I was in my human form more often during that time. I wanted Harry to want me too, and the snake form wasn't very sexy) and pressed himself closer. I felt his excitement against my leg and I was pretty sure he could feel mine digging into his stomach.

I apparated us to my bedroom, slamming him against the wall. He cried out against my mouth, but the pain only seemed to excite him further. He started practically humping my thigh, making these hot little noises in the back of his throat.

"Fuck!" he cursed after we parted for air. I've never really been certain as to why he said it. 

I ran my hands down his body, stopping to tug his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. I continued my exploration, running my finger lightly over his navel. He let out a breathy little noise that might have been a sigh. 

"If you think I'm willing to do foreplay then you're crazier than I am," he growled, shoving my hand down to his erection.

"You want me to fuck you dry?" I asked, undoing the button and zip on his pants.

"Yes, make me bleed, break me. I know you've wanted to the second I killed that little Muggle girl."

"Mmm, that _did_ make me horny," I admitted. 

Harry vanished our clothes, stressing his impatience even more. Well, if this gorgeous young man wanted to be fucked until he bled, who was I to deny him that?

I positioned my cock at his entrance and thrust hard, forcing my way past the resistance I got. He let out the most beautiful scream. Blood ran down his thighs and coated mine, further fueling my desire. Tears leaked from his eyes, a direct contrast to his thrusting hips. He hurt terribly but he wanted to hurt more. I granted him that hurt. 

I pounded fiercely into him and licked away his salty tears. He sobbed as he clung to my shoulders, whimpering for it harder, faster. I whispered an assortment of degrading titles in his ear, to which he moaned and agreed.

"Such a perfect broken little slut. Will you come for me?" I purred. A few thrusts later, he did just that, coming in spurts over our stomachs. His pain-laced cry of pleasure and clenching muscles were enough to send me over the edge as well.

I panted against his neck, feeling a sense of satisfaction I had never felt with any other lover. Harry was as broken as I was and he enjoyed the same sort of games I did. I knew then that I loved him and that I would do anything to have him love me back. We were two imperfect people, struggling to rid ourselves of our own guilt and shame by taking it out on others. He was imperfect, that much was obvious by the hate in his eyes.

Oh, his eyes. In that instant, they stared at me with understanding, something that no one else had ever felt for me. He understood me and I understood him. We were trying to rid the world of everyone else because we were too stubborn to realize that our paths were ultimately up to us. He refused to believe that he could have objected to being the saviour much sooner and I was too proud to admit to myself that after the orphanage, I was smart enough to do anything I pleased. But because of who we are, because of what we feel, we can't accept that reality. We have to blame others because openly blaming ourselves would destroy everything that gave us meaning. We would cease to be anything, we wouldn't live, we would merely exist. That is not the reality I wanted for myself and for him. The spark of humanity I had long thought died, swelled because of this boy. 

This beautiful, imperfect boy in my arms was the only happiness I ever had. I killed, I took revenge, I conquered the world, but the only times I truly felt happy were in his prescence. After a time, he loved me back and things were finally right in our worlds. We had someone who understood us, someone who we would die for. 

And Harry did just that; he lunged in front of a Killing Curse that was aimed for me. This time, he didn't walk away with a scar. I viciously tortured and killed the one who murdered my love. The last of the resistance died away that day. The world ran exactly as I had hoped it would when I spent lonely nights plotting my revenge. Only I could no longer find any satisfaction in that. Harry was gone and, with him, went my heart.

Harry was a bloodthristy and ruthless killer. It was one of the things I so loved about him. He was broken beyond repair and so beautiful that my heart ached at times. A person with such beauty was bound to suffer and suffer he did. I will fully admit that Harry deserved no one's love after he killed so many innocents, but the simple fact that I didn't either made it okay in my book that we did love each other.

We both suffered and we both deserved no one's sympathy for it. We didn't want pity, I still don't want pity or sympathy. I killed to fill the void in my heart where love was supposed to reside. Harry killed to stop the accusing voices in his head from overcoming him _and_ to fill that void. At one point, the void was filled for both of us. Then it opened wider for me when I watched Harry die.

I write this on the day of my lover's funeral. I have one more life to end for the void to close and for my soul to finally be released from it's aching prison. 

My own. 

Most likely, my soul will be sent to another prison. At least there, I might see Harry. An eternity of damnation is worth it to see my love. I will commit suicide on this day with no regrets, only hopes that I will be reunited with Harry again.

He is my imperfect love, my broken angel. I cannot live without him and I don't want to try. Life will never be the same rose-tinted world it was when Harry was by my side. 

Harry and I, we're alike in many ways. Both of us suffered more than we deserved. We were children, taken in Fate's claws, and broken repeatedly. Yet, there is one way we are different. 

On the day he died, he hesitated for a split second to kill Ginny Weasley, a girl he had almost died for. That hesitation was enough. She didn't have the heart to kill Harry, that much was obvious by the lingering love in her eyes, so she fired at me instead. I thought that she must have loved him a great deal before he went on a rampage and that he knew it, hence the hesitation. She may have been the one person, besides myself later on, that loved Harry unconditionally. When she saw that Harry had taken the curse for me, she screamed in distress. 

Torturing her was very simple and my method of it was more effective than anything else that could have been. I snapped her wand, put a preservation charm on Harry's body, and locked her in the room with him for three days. Her eyes were blank and lifeless when I opened the door. I killed her soon afterwards, realizing that she had suffered as much as I could possibly make her.

The difference between myself and Harry is that he never lost his capacity to love. I did. I loved no one before Harry, whereas a part of him still cared for Ginny, still saw her as the frightened first year in need of his help.

The person he almost died for killed him. The enemy that had tried to kill him previously was who he died for. It still boggles my mind. 

Enough of this, my heart couldn't possibly hurt anymore. Heh, I must sound so different from the beginning. Thinking about Harry alive puts me in a good mood, but remembering his premature demise makes me want to kill again. I've always been considered insane by other people and my sudden mood swings are starting to convince me as well.

So, before I go kill one of my followers, or before someone interuppts me, I will end my life. This lovely silver dagger will do the deed nicely. Before I do that, however, I have one last thing to say.

Wait for me, Harry. I will see you soon.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a broken angel to meet with.

 

A/N: Good? Bad? You'll have to forgive this sudden fascination with Voldemort/Harry. The pairing allows for some serious angst and I'm in an angsty mood. Please review and tell me what you thought. Should I write more Voldemort/Harry or should I stick with Severus/Harry?


End file.
